


broke a finger knockin' on your bedroom door

by elysiumwaits



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Barebacking, Begging, Come play, Crying, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Enthusiastic Consent, M/M, Manhandling, Multiple Orgasms, Nude Photos, Overstimulation, Panties, Possessive Behavior, Steve Harrington Has a Big Dick, Steve Harrington Is a Mess, Steve Harrington in Panties, Tattooed Billy Hargrove, Under-negotiated Kink, because is it really a harringrove fic if billy isn't running his mouth, starts out kinky and then gets tender which is my new brand, there's self-indulgent and then there's this, this is gonna be the fic that they show me as evidence when I die and they send me to hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-19 12:30:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22344307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elysiumwaits/pseuds/elysiumwaits
Summary: Steve tries to send a risque picture to Robin to fulfill a bet, and accidentally sends it to Billy instead. There are consequences. Sexy, sexy consequences.--"I sent it to someone else!" Steve thrusts the phone at her, bats her hand with it until she uncovers her eyes and snatches it from him, pointedly looking up and very much away from Steve.At least, until she sees who he sent it to. "Oh my god, you sent it to Hargrove?"
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 89
Kudos: 1313





	broke a finger knockin' on your bedroom door

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you get slightly drunk off screwdrivers and write accidental nudes. Wow, this is self-indulgent. Holy shit, me. I'm filthy. The dirty talk in this is terrible. I got about 7k in and went full throttle, the tags just got progressively worse as I went on. 13k later, here we are.
> 
> There's a definite Dom/sub aspect here - Billy gives orders and says things, and everyone really should have discussed this beforehand but they didn't, so. Don't use this as a manual for kink. Remember to use condoms, because they didn't. Steve is enthusiastically on-board here. 
> 
> Title from "Only Angel" by Harry Styles.

The panties are white cotton with black polka-dots and black lace on the edges, and there's no way in hell that Steve is going to be able to get his dick into them. He's not even trying to be all "my dick is so big haha," it's just simple, like, _physics_ or something. He knows he's above average in terms of size, did the whole dick-measuring thing when he was younger because _every guy does it, okay_ ("Stop laughing, Robin, it's true!"), but this? This is not about his ego. This is about the fact that his _big dick_ isn't going to fit in those _tiny panties_.

"These are too small!" Steve calls through the bathroom door. He hasn't actually taken off his boxers yet, and he's very pointedly turned away from both mirrors in the bathroom. This is going to look ridiculous, he knows, and he doesn't need to see it for longer than he has to. 

"You're just taking a picture from the back!" Robin calls back, far too close to the other side of the door for comfort. Steve reaches over and turns the lock. It makes a little click, which Robin apparently hears, because she says, "Oh my god, Steve, I don't want to see your super-giant dick or whatever, I'm not going to come in. Just take the picture and send it to me, and your debt will be _paid_."

"Could you sound any weirder about this?" Steve knows he's being a little bit of a whiny bitch here, but he feels like the situation calls for it. He's got tiny panties in one hand, he's allowed to whine. "Like, really, could you?"

He hears Robin laugh. " _You're_ the one who made the bet. On Snapchat. For everyone to see." 

" _Robin."_

"So now you're the one who's got to follow through," Robin adds. "Come on, it's just the back! I won't even post it, I'll just make a story confirming it happened so everyone knows you did it, okay? I'm not letting you out of this bathroom until you send me the picture!"

"You'll delete it as soon as you get it?" Steve demands, eyeing the panties again like they're going to bite him.

"Scout's honor," Robin calls back.

With an annoyed sigh, Steve starts wiggling out of his boxers. "You weren't even a Girl Scout," he mutters, though he's sure she can't hear him. He gets the panties on, and doesn't turn to look in the mirror because he can tell just by looking down that they're a little too small. It's not helping that he's a little bit chubbed up at the moment, which is something he really didn't plan on examining about himself today. That's college for you though - another day, another kink he never fucking expected.

"Sometime today, Steve!" Robin calls impatiently.

He makes an annoyed sound in reply and fumbles the phone a little as he tries to get a picture in the mirror of himself from the back. He finally succeeds and... well. He has to admit, he doesn't hate it. The panties look a little obscene even from the back, though, and of course he's got that dumb ice cream cone tattoo on his right shoulder blade. He chews his lip and loads it up in Snapchat just to slap a filter over it to play with the lighting a little bit, and... yeah, alright, this isn't helping his half-hard dick any. Is this conceited? Is he officially so conceited that he's standing here, getting hard over the image of himself in a tiny pair of panties?

"Look, I don't know what kind of crisis you're having in there, but..." Robin starts, and Steve cuts her off with another annoyed sound, tapping to send the picture. 

Contacts, B for Buckley, and sent. "There!" he says, and sets his phone back down on the counter to change back into his own clothes, which are lying in a heap on the bathroom floor. He hears the "swoop" sound that means it's sent, and gets a little distracted by the sight of himself in the panties again, now that he's actually facing the mirror. It's _obscene_ , in a good way, the way that makes him think he might try to sneakily keep these panties and explore it on his own a little bit later.

Except his phone makes a ding, meaning he's got a text back. Right at the same time, Robin says through the door, "I didn't get it! Ugh, your apartment has the worst internet connection. Steve picks up his phone again to check who texted him. It's weird, because it's a reply to the picture, and Robin said she didn't get it, and why would she - 

Oh. 

" _Oh no,_ " Steve breathes in abject horror. He doesn't look up from his phone as he smacks at the doorknob, finally managing to get his fingers working enough he can get it unlocked, and then he throws the door open to Robin's surprised and dismayed shriek. "Robin, I _fucked up_."

Robin looks down just long enough to clap her hand over her eyes with a grimace. "Steve-"

"I sent it to someone else!" Steve thrusts the phone at her, bats her hand with it until she uncovers her eyes and snatches it from him, pointedly looking up and very much away from Steve. 

At least, until she sees who he sent it to. " _Oh my god_ , you sent it to _Hargrove_?" It dings with another received text. 

"Billy starts with B! I don't know many people who have names that start with B!" Steve snatches the phone back and stares at the text like he can will it away, even though he really can't make out words well enough to read right now. "He's right above you in the contacts, okay, because I still have you in as 'Buckley' from that time I-"

"When you were mad at me about the Icee, I know, whatever." Robin waves her hand at him impatiently, apparently completely unconcerned with Steve's state of undress now that there's something more interesting happening. Even though she's very much still not looking down. "What did he _say_?"

"Uh," Steve scrolls down and actually reads what Billy sent, just as another text comes through. "'Holy shit' is the first one, and then... 'Are you at your apartment?' and... oh my god, he says he's on his way. Why is he _on his way?!"_

Robin yanks the phone out of his hand again. "This is _not_ how I thought you guys would finally get a handle on all of that weird sexual tension between the two of you."

_"What the fuck,_ Robin!" Steve turns to lean his forehead against the door frame of the bathroom. "He's not- there's not _weird sexual tension_ between me and Billy, just-just me projecting all over the place and _you_ reading too much into it. Way too much, apparently. He's probably coming to kick my ass or something because he thinks I'm coming onto him!"

There's another ding, the sound of Robin typing the passcode to unlock Steve's phone, and then she lets out a noise of absolute disgust. 

"What, what is it?" Steve says, spinning back around and grabbing for his phone again. He reads it, and then reads it again, reaching out to steady himself on the frame of the bathroom door he'd just been leaning on with one hand.

_'Leave them on.'_

Holy fuck, Steve thinks, and then turns to Robin and says, "Holy _fuck_."

She claps her hands together decisively and strides over to the kitchen counter where her purse is. "On that note, I'm out of here." Steve splutters, manages some syllables that might be words if you kind of think about it long enough, and Robin shakes her head. "Nope, not sticking around to watch you have wild sex with Billy Hargrove, congratulations on that or whatever, but I'm _out_." 

And then... she's _out_ , gone before Steve can grab her, front door closing behind her. There's just the silence of the empty apartment and Steve's pounding heartbeat, right up until his phone dings again. He flips it up out of habit more than anything, conditioned over the years to check it when it goes off, and of course it's Billy again. Of course it is. One little notification that says "Billy" and then "Text Message" next to a green message bubble, right there on his lock screen. 

What he _should_ do is text back and tell Billy that it was an accident. He should call or something, laugh it off as a joke, because they do that now, they hang out and joke with each other. They're friends _,_ and Steve likes that - he doesn't want to fuck it up with all the stupid feelings he caught along the way and end up at each others' throats every second of the day again. 

But also he spends a lot of time jerking off to the thought of Billy holding him down and fucking him stupid. And sometimes he goes with Billy to the gym because he likes to watch him work out, and not just in that platonic, gym bros supporting gym bros way (which, also, Steve is not as into the gym as Billy is, like not even a little, so believe him when he says that the view is really fucking good). He also maybe sort of kind of thinks an awful lot about kissing Billy or holding Billy's hand, and there's a deep-seated little part of him that's really, really hoping that Billy's actually about to come in here and dick him down. 

Steve touches his phone to bring up the lockscreen again and types in the passcode with a barely-trembling finger. He bites at his other thumb, a nervous habit he hasn't kicked, and clicks the text message open with a weird mix of hopeful anticipation and anxiety swirling in his stomach. 

It's a picture. 

Billy must have been at home when he got Steve's accidental message, about to head to the gym - the picture that Steve gets is a hasty one, just a little blurry, of Billy in his bathroom mirror in a ratty tank top, with his earbuds dangling around his neck. The part that draws Steve's eye, though, is the way that Billy's got one thumb in the band of his basketball shorts, dragging them down to reveal the obvious bulge in his boxer briefs. The look on Billy's face is one that Steve's never actually seen before on him, and Steve is very suddenly well on his way to painfully aroused instead of panicked.

Billy only lives ten minutes away if there's no traffic. 

With that thought, Steve jolts into action, darting into the bathroom to grab his own shorts off the floor and pull them on as quickly as possible. Just in case he's wrong, just in case there's something else here that he doesn't get, and he needs to very quickly pretend that this was all a joke. He hopes it's not a joke, because his shorts aren't as loose as Billy's and don't hide the way his hard-on is back with a vengeance, won't do a damn thing to keep his secrets. He runs a hand through his hair in the mirror and then gives up on it, goes to grab his shirt off the floor with a fumbling hand when his phone dings. He hears the front door open before he even gets his phone unlocked.

"Steve." Billy's voice is deep and rough. 

Steve swallows and puts the phone back down. "In here," he calls back, and hopes his voice isn't shaking or anything. His hand sure as hell is, though, so he just drops the shirt back onto the floor, and then braces his palms on either side of the sink and tries to breathe. God, he hasn't even seen Billy in person yet, but he _wants_.

After a second, he hears the front door close again, and this time, he hears the sound of the lock that he'd forgotten about in his panic after Robin had left. Steve's apartment isn't big, so he can hear the steps as Billy makes the walk from the front door to the bathroom, gym shoes against the hardwood floor. He doesn't turn around, can't bring himself to move, instead leaning heavily against the sink because, honestly, Steve's not too confident in his own legs right now. 

There's a beat where they stare at each other in the mirror, and Steve spends the moment trying to get a read on Billy's expression. It looks like want, like _hunger_ , like single-minded focus as Billy's eyes move in a slow, sweeping line from Steve's face to his chest to his shorts. They linger there, and Steve can feel the way he flushes in response, knows that when he blushes it spreads down his neck and chest from the heat that he can feel there. 

"Turn around, Harrington." 

It's said in that same tone, like Billy swallowed a handful of gravel on his way over, commanding in that way he gets sometimes, when he just knows that Steve's going to do exactly what he says. Steve's only heard something similar from Billy at the gym before, telling him how to work out for the best results like Steve wasn't just there for the view, and even then it wasn't... _this_. Charged. Heated. Hot as fuck.

Steve turns around, still holding onto the counter for support. Billy's eyes immediately go to the hard-on that Steve can't hide, even in these shorts, and Steve swallows. Then, Billy's gaze, blue and piercing, snaps back up to his. If he thought that Billy's focus was intense with the mirror as a sort of buffer, it's even more powerful head-on.

"You wearin' 'em?" 

Even Billy's words are coiled tight, tensed muscles ready to unleash. There's a predatory energy rolling off of him in waves, and Steve is caught up in it, lives for the feeling of Billy seeming to loom in the doorway, waiting. Steve desperately wants him to do something, _needs_ him to make a move. It's the tight, elastic stretch of a rubber band between them, waiting to snap.

Steve can't find words. He gives a short nod as his tongue swipes across his lips, loses himself a little in the way that Billy zeroes in on the quick motion. "Yeah," he finally manages, and his voice sounds strange to his own ears, strained and a little breathy. "I wasn't sure if you... I just-"

He doesn't know how to say what the fuck he's trying to say - that he needs to know this isn't some practical joke, that Billy's _into_ this, and not at Steve's expense. But Billy can do this thing now where he knows what Steve's trying to say even when the words don't come, so it's okay when Billy doesn't say anything as Steve stumbles over syllables. He steps into the bathroom and presses himself into Steve's space, and Steve cuts off whatever words were attempting to trip over his tongue. Billy hands curl around Steve's hips and pull, until Steve's feet are stumbling forward and he's pressed flush against Billy's front. 

" _Oh_."

Steve's mouth opens on a gasp, hands flying to clutch at Billy's biceps as he _feels_ the hard line of Billy's cock against his own, feels the way that the soft cotton of the panties constricts his arousal in just the right way. His open mouth is an opportunity, and Billy takes it, sliding a hand into Steve's hair and dragging him into a kiss that's just on the right side of heavy. It's just like everything Billy does, rides the line between harsh and passionate, consuming in a way that threatens to burn Steve up from the inside out. 

When Billy finally breaks it, Steve chases until Billy's hand in his hair stops him short. He's already rolling his hips against Billy's to try and get friction, he realizes, and his grip on Billy's arms have to be hurting, nails digging in to leave little red crescents behind when Steve forces himself to ease up a little. Billy doesn't seem to mind, or even really notice, giving Steve's hair a firm tug like he's making sure Steve is paying attention. The tingle that rips down Steve's spine is unfair.

"Are you sure _now_?" Billy asks. He's cocky now, like he already knows the answer he's going to get.

"Yeah, fuck," Steve breathes, dazed and unable to call out Billy for being an arrogant motherfucker when he's so right about it. It's a lot, is the thing, emotional whiplash here, and Steve's already so turned on that it hurts. The hand that's carding through his hair feels nice, though, and there's no coming back from the absolute devastation that was that kiss. No coming back from this at all, god.

"Stevie." The hand that had been on Steve's hip has moved, fingers sliding underneath the elastic band of the shorts he'd quickly thrown on. They're in the way now, and he desperately wants them off. "Show me, baby." Billy's voice dripping with some kind of cloying demand, the tone that Steve's only heard hints of when he's witnessed Billy trying to chat someone up. It's never been aimed at him before, and Steve thinks that Billy could ruin him with his words alone, if he wanted to. 

Billy doesn't really step out of Steve's space, but he does move to brace his arms against the counter. He's effectively trapping Steve between his body and the bathroom sink, which doesn't give Steve a lot of room to get his shorts off, but he manages. He also manages to keep brushing Billy in an almost-unintentional tease, as in it's an accident the first time and never again after that, the sharp intake of Billy's breath enough to get Steve to just lightly glance against Billy's body again and again. When he kicks the shorts away, his bravado falters and he has to fight the urge to cover his face, feels the heat of his own blush as Billy looks down at the sight of Steve between them. Slowly, almost reverently, Billy's thumb traces along the black lace edge that's curving over Steve's hip, and then drags his knuckles down the obscene bulge of Steve's cock, eyes coming up again when Steve can't hold back a broken moan.

"Fuck, look at you, Harrington," Billy says, corner of his lip curling into something impressed. "God _damn_ , baby, you make them look so good." He keeps touching, gentle little strokes over the cotton fabric, fingers lingering over the wet spot that's quickly forming. Steve can't hold back the gasp as Billy slowly drags the lacy waist of the panties down just barely so that the head of Steve's cock peeks out from the top. "You don't even fit inside them, you're too big." He grips, suddenly, strokes firm and sure over the panties, and Steve makes a loud, broken sound at the sudden rush in stimulation. "You want to know what I want, Stevie?"

Steve nods, Billy's hand still in his hair, stroking in a gentle counterpoint to the just-right tight grip he's got on Steve's cock. "Yeah, tell me." Steve knows he's practically begging already, can't bring himself to care much about his ego in this moment.

Billy presses himself close again, stops stroking Steve's cock but doesn't let go. He kisses gently at Steve's neck, and his jaw, and finally lifts his head to murmur in his ear, "I want to get on my knees and make you mess your pretty panties up." His hand shifts, kneading Steve's erection, and if Steve thought his legs might not hold him before he's sure that they won't now. "And then I want to take you to bed, so I can sit you on my cock and fuck you until you _cry."_

_Fuck_. Steve was right, Billy _can_ ruin him with only his voice and a few choice words. "God, yes," Steve chokes out. "Billy, _please_."

He gets another kiss in response, just as deep and intense as the first, but quicker, dirtier somehow because of it. One of Billy's arms sweeps everything on the counter clattering to the floor in a sudden cacophony - comb, brush, hairspray, gel, fuckin' miscellaneous bullshit that Steve couldn't care less about right now - and then Billy's hands are gripping under Steve's thighs, lifting him onto the counter and then dragging him to the edge. It's almost too hot to bear, the fact that Billy can _manhandle_ him like this, and Steve is never going to be able to watch Billy work out again without getting hard in front of the whole gym. 

It gets even worse when Billy drops to his knees and presses his open mouth to the bulge of Steve's cock, and Steve can't look away as Billy licks a slow, deliberate line over the outline. It's when he reaches the tip, though, when he carefully takes the edge of the panties between his teeth and drags them up and over the wet head of Steve's cock once more, that Steve lets out a desperate, embarrassing sound, somewhere between a moan and a keen. Billy's hands spread across Steve's thighs, pushing like he's keeping them open, and Steve lets go of the counter to bite at his hand.

The sudden smack to his thigh is sharp, a stinging pain that makes Steve's cock kick and his hips buck up towards Billy's mouth. Or, at least, his hips try to, but Billy's got him held down against the counter so that movement is limited. Another new kink learned about today, apparently, because Steve very much wants Billy to smack him again. Maybe two, actually, because he doesn't want Billy to let him move, either.

"Hands on me," Billy says, fingers squeezing right over the now-red skin of Steve's thigh, like a warning and a promise all in one. "I want to hear you, baby, don't hide from me."

Steve doesn't hesitate, curling his fingers into Billy's curls, so damn grateful that Billy hadn't put it up in his usual ponytail for the gym yet. He gives a short, experimental tug, pleased when Billy's head goes with his hand, a little spark in his eyes that says he's being _indulgent_. "Oh, Christ," he mutters, and then licks his lips just so he can watch Billy follow it again. "You're gonna kill me. I'm not - Billy, I'm not gonna last long."

"Good, take the edge off." Billy dives forward, mouthing at Steve's cock with a scorching enthusiasm and wet heat that Steve can only just barely stand. He bites his lip on another moan out of habit and gets another slap on the same thigh, and this time Billy doesn't let him jerk his hips at all, even when Steve pulls on his hair in a reflex. With a hum, Billy closes as his lips over the head as much as he can through the way the panties are stretched over Steve's dick, sucking as he drags his nails lightly down the red, stinging skin of Steve's thigh. 

" _Fuck_ , Billy." Steve knows he's holding onto Billy's hair too tight. It has to be hurting, but he can't find the motor control to let go, doesn't know where else to put his hands. Billy lets him, though, lets him grip his hair and keep his mouth pressed to Steve's cock while Steve rolls his hips to chase the friction and the orgasm that Billy wants him to have. While Steve works to mess himself up, just like Billy wants.

Billy mouths, words muffled into Steve's dick that Steve could maybe make out if he concentrated hard enough. As it is, though, all Steve manages to do is swear again, little noises and gasps falling from his lips as the situation, the sight of Billy on his knees, the feeling of the wet cotton on his aching cock - it all becomes too much in the best way possible. He gasps out a warning, yanks on Billy's hair much harder than he would if he weren't so caught up, and comes, quaking under Billy's hands and Billy's mouth. 

The groan that Billy gives is gratifying, even as Steve's panting. Billy doesn't pull back right away, keeps licking and sucking at the wet mess that Steve just made of himself until Steve is whimpering and tugging at Billy's hair, begging for relief without outright saying the words. He wasn't kidding, fuck, Billy's going to _kill him_ with this - that was possibly the hardest and the fastest that Steve's ever come in his life, and the overstimulation of Billy continuing to lick and suck at him is... Steve's not sure if it's good or it's bad or what it is. Overwhelming is what it is, and he's not sure if he ever wants Billy to stop.

He does though, and Steve is both relieved and bereft. "You did so good, baby, such a good boy for me," Billy says when he stands, Steve's hands slipping from his hair as he crowds up into Steve's space again. He gets a hand on Steve's jaw and an arm around Steve's waist, turning his head where he wants it for a kiss. And fuck, but Steve can _taste_ himself on Billy, on his tongue and it's heady, makes him just a little crazy at the idea. He licks his way into Billy's mouth, digs his fingers into Billy's shoulders like he has a chance of keeping Billy there, like Billy's even trying to get away. 

He'll keep Billy forever if Billy will let him.

Billy breaks the kiss and smooths a hand up Steve's back and down again, kisses his way across Steve's jawline all gentle and soothing now. "Stevie," he says, tilts Steve's chin up with a careful hand so that Steve is looking him in the eye. "You wanna keep going, baby?" He's soft and serious, and Steve smiles without really processing what Billy's asking.

Suddenly, he remembers Billy telling him exactly what he wanted to do to Steve. "I thought you wanted to sit me on your cock," Steve asks with the wide, bright eyes that he knows people have trouble saying no to. "You want to fuck me until I _cry._ You said so." 

He gets a lot of satisfaction out of watching Billy's eyes go half-lidded and blown, hands tightening on Steve's chin and waist. He knows Billy better than himself sometimes these days, knows that Billy is possessive of the people and the things that he has. And maybe Steve isn't _really_ his yet, but Steve _really_ fucking wants to be. He knows that if he tells Billy to stop, Billy will. Immediately, no questions asked. 

He doesn't want Billy to stop, doesn't want Billy to _ever_ fucking stop. 

Stopping is the opposite of what he wants right now. And sometimes now they do this _thing_ , they play little games where they push at each other, needle and jab until the other can't resist the challenge. Never like this, really, because Steve's never acted on his deep, dark crush on Billy. Maybe not this specific situation, but he knows exactly how to get Billy where Steve wants him to go.

"If _you_ don't," Steve says, low and a little catty in the way he never admits to, "I'll go find someone who will."

He's expecting Billy to escalate, of course, even though it's an empty threat, and Steve's pretty sure they both know that. What he gets is more than he intended, in the best way possible. Billy's eyes narrow, fingers tightening on Steve's jaw before he's tangling his left hand into Steve's hair and dragging his head back, right coming down to curl around his throat. There's no squeezing, no oxygen being cut off as Billy just holds him there, looks him over for a moment like he's _thinking_ about it. Considering it. Steve's lashes flutter, and he finds himself wanting Billy to apply just a little pressure. Just to see what it's like.

"You are so fuckin' lucky I love it when you act all prissy," Billy finally says, grin playing at his mouth like he's trying not to let it show. He releases Steve's throat to give him a little pat on the cheek. Even though the action is lightly condescending, Steve's brain catches on his words, trips over one in particular. Before he can turn it over in his mind too much, Billy's tugging him forward by his hair, sharp points of pain that send sparks of pleasure through Steve like he's a livewire. "You just came in your pretty panties for _me_ , Stevie. Who else you gonna find who can fuck you as good as I can?"

" _You_ haven't even fucked me yet." Steve's can already feel the shiver of arousal trickling down his spine again even as his body is telling him it's too soon to get hard again. "So far you've just made promises. Or are you just talking a big game, Hargrove? Because if you can't deliver..."

"Keep acting like a little bitch, Harrington, and I'm gonna treat you like you one." It's a threat he's made before, but never with this kind of connotation. Here and now the thrill that shoots through Steve at the words has a basis in reality instead of just his guilty fantasies - after all, the evidence is in the way the panties are sticking to him.

Billy gives a sharp tug, and then he lets go of Steve's hair. Steve's disappointed for all of half a second, right up until Billy gets his hands under Steve's thighs and lifts him like he's a couple of grocery bags. Steve scrambles for a hold as Billy lifts him, gets his arms around Billy's neck and his legs clamped around Billy's waist, looking down at Billy with his mouth open on a shocked noise.

"I think I've seen that expression on your face at the gym." Billy smirks, insufferably smug at the way that he's rendered Steve effectively speechless. Steve's brain breaks a little as Billy carries him out of the bathroom, kicking whatever's on the floor out of the way, seemingly unbothered by the fact that Steve is a grown-ass man. 

Steve should speak, should throw something witty and maybe sexual back at Billy, but all he can come up with is, "Yeah, I want to suck your dick while you lift." It's the truth, at least, and it has the desired effect of making Billy's arms around him go even tighter for a second. When Billy drops Steve onto the edge of his own bed among the messy sheets and blankets, he follows him down. Maybe it should feel threatening, having Billy looming over him and caging him in with his arms and his legs, but Steve has craved it for longer than he cares to admit. Steve wraps around Billy's neck again, pulling him impossibly close.

For his part, Billy doesn't seem too wary of Steve's clinging. "I can make that happen," he says, between pressing his lips to Steve's neck in hot, open-mouthed kisses. It takes Steve a second to catch up to where the conversation has gone, distracted by just how good Billy feels against him, the hot line of his body against Steve's keeping him pinned to the bed. "Next time we'll work out at my place instead of goin' to the gym downtown. Or, at least I can work out. You can sit there." Another kiss to Steve's neck, the glance of teeth over his pulse point. Steve's eyes flutter closed. "Pretty for me." A nip then, just under Steve's jaw, like Billy's testing. It's too high for a hickey, there's no way to hide it. Steve doesn't care. "On your knees." Steve gasps out Billy's name as Billy bites down, teeth worrying so the mark takes. He licks over the spot when he finally pulls away, when Steve's squirming under him. "And suck my cock."

Steve can't think of a response that isn't just begging for that moment, right now. It doesn't matter anyway - Billy doesn't give him long to think, moving to capture Steve's mouth with his own in a ruthless kiss. He's not even sure he can call it a kiss honestly. It's less a press of lips and more like Billy's trying to crawl into Steve's very soul and set up shop, like he's planting a flag. 

Or staking a claim. 

The thought, coupled with the phantom sting of Billy's teeth in his neck, leaves Steve dizzy with need, makes him want to gasp for air and beg for mercy all at once. It's so good, so fucking good. He's not willing to break the kiss for something that seems as silly as breathing, doesn't need to _breathe_ nearly as much as he needs _this_ , feels like he'll die if he doesn't have the dirty-wet slide of Billy's lips and tongue against his own.

Eventually, though, Billy pulls away, ignoring Steve's displeased noise and slides off the bed. That sounds like the worst idea Steve's ever heard in his life, so he sits up, reaching to chase Billy and drag him back down. One of Billy's hands splays in the center of Steve's chest, a hot point of contact, before Billy's shoving him back down onto the bed. Steve whines, and Billy puts a little weight behind his hand when Steve tries to resist. 

"Be a good boy and stay where I put you." It's just words, just pressure, but it's heady. Billy could _keep Steve there_ if he had to, if he wants to, if Steve doesn't behave. Steve swallows, throat clicking, and goes still under Billy's hold, fingers curling in the blanket beneath him. Billy watches him through lust-blown eyes. "Got it?"

Steve's breath comes out ragged when he finally wraps his head around the fact that Billy's waiting for a response. He finally nods, short and jerky, a marionette dependent on Billy pulling the strings. "Yeah, yes," he says. "I'll be good."

The weight of Billy's gaze on him is almost as physically heavy as the actual hand on Steve's chest. "Good boy," Billy says. He pulls his hand back to get off the bed again, and his words sink into Steve's chest and go molten.

This time, Steve only moves a little, just to sit up on his elbows and watch as Billy strips. He's seen Billy naked before - Billy's never been shy and they've played various sports together over the years. But it's never been like _this,_ with the crackling electricity in the air between them, and certainly never with this kind of intent. Steve has surreptitiously watched Billy strip his tank top over his head to reveal all that golden skin, but he's never really been really _allowed_ too until now. He sees the skull on Billy's bicep often enough, but his eyes catch on Billy's other tattoos like he's never seen them before - the vines that twist up Billy's left side over his ribs, with the small blooms of flowers and the one single butterfly near the top. When Billy slips his shorts down his legs, Steve catches sight of the bulge in his boxers that he saw in Billy's picture earlier, the erection that _he_ caused with his accidental invitation. Steve can't tear his eyes away, couldn't if his life depended on it, as Billy finally starts to tug his boxer briefs down.

And fuck. Fuck, Steve's seen Billy's cock before, in locker rooms and in Billy's apartment because Billy has no sense of shame. He's seen it but he's never _looked_ , because there's a _line_ , okay, and he may not be sure exactly where that line is but he knows staring at your friend's cock is crossing it. Now, though, he's got permission, and it takes everything he has not to just drop to his knees and beg for Billy to get a hand in his hair and fuck his face. He hopes he gets a chance later to get his mouth on Billy.For now... 

"Lube?" Billy asks, turning back to the bed and reaching out one hand to ghost his fingertips over Steve's ankle. He smirks, draws his fingers up, and Steve flushes when he realizes that he's unconsciously spread his legs a little wider. He instinctively starts to close them, but Billy's hand squeezes his ankle warningly. "No, princess, you look good just like this. Now, where's your lube?"

Steve lets his legs fall open then, shivers and manages a vague motion at the nightstand while he tries to will his own blush away. It's only when Billy turns away to rummage through the nightstand that he realizes he's still wearing the panties. There's a part of him that wants to keep them on, a part of him that wants Billy just to pull them aside to fuck him, but they're starting to go tacky and they'll be uncomfortable when he goes from half-hard to full throttle here in a minute. So he starts to peel them down, wiggles a little as he shifts to get them off without sitting up.

Billy's hand slaps his leg, light enough it doesn't really hurt even as it makes a sudden sound. "Don't think I remember tellin' you to take those off," he says.

There's something deep within Steve that responds to that tone, when Billy's words more than a little commanding and laced with a hint of indulgence. That's how Billy always sounds around him. He's in control of the situation even when he's deigning to let Steve call the shots. It's the same tone Steve's heard muffled around a cigarette, shouted across a crowded room at a frat party, whispered to him in that one statistics class they had together last semester. So he freezes, lace and cotton still bunched between his fingers, and waits. 

The half-empty bottle of lube hits the bed first. Billy follows, climbing up until he's bracketing Steve's thighs, hands coming down over Steve's to grip his wrists. He tugs on them, and Steve lets go of the panties, lets Billy pull his hands away and guide them to rest next to Steve's shoulders. Billy pushes down a little, presses his fingers in, and Steve finds himself hoping there will be marks there for him to look at later. A reminder. 

"You wanna be good for me, Stevie?" Turns out that Billy's just as breathtaking above him as he is when he's on his knees. When Steve nods, Billy's mouth curls into a little smirk. "Then _stay_ where I _put_ you." 

Steve leaves his hands there, twists his fingers in the sheets below them when Billy lets go and shifts down. He gets on his knees between Steve's legs like that's where he's always belonged and where he's always wanted to be. His broad frame is spreading Steve's legs farther for him, and his hands splay across Steve's thighs and move up, until his fingertips are brushing the black lace edges the panties. Steve can't take it when Billy leans and licks along the edge, moans breathy and high and forgets that he's supposed to be _staying_ where Billy _puts_ him. 

"Stevie," Billy murmurs, breath hot over Steve's thigh. He's covered his face, moved his hands again. "I wanna see your face, baby. C'mon, look at me." It takes a minute, but Billy's patient, waits until Steve finally drops his hands and lifts his head to look down his own body. Once he knows he's got Steve's attention again, he grins. "It's a shame I need to take these off." He presses a kiss to sensitive skin just above the inside of Steve's knee, and then another one a little higher. Steve wants him to bite, maybe, make a mark there to go with the one that's too high to be socially acceptable on Steve's neck. "You just look so damn good, baby, I want to keep you in your panties forever."

Steve finds his voice just to say, "I'll wear 'em for you again. Or different ones, or... whatever you want."

Billy presses another kiss, even higher, and then his fingers are slipping under the polka-dot panties to pull them down Steve's legs. He gets them under Steve's cock, which is already chubbing up again in that lewd way, and stops. He doesn't shift out of the way so that he can take them all the way off and throw them to the floor. Instead, he leans in and noses up Steve's cock, gives a teasing lick and an amused huff at the sound Steve makes.

He glances up at Steve, holds his gaze and says, "I'll buy you a new pair." 

The ripping sound that they make drowns out Steve's surprised sound. He gets them off one of Steve's legs and then the other, drops them to the floor while Steve's trying to comprehend that Billy just _ripped his panties off_ like some bad romance love interest. "Oh my god," Steve groans, and then says it a little louder, higher-pitched when Billy licks a stripe up his cock. He's still covered in his own come, Steve realizes with a moan. Billy's tasting him, gets his mouth around the head and sucks, tongue pressing against the ridge there. It's too soon, still, arousal hurts a little in the most delicious way, and Steve wants Billy to never stop. 

There's a click, the obscene, wet sounds of lube. Billy lets Steve's cock fall from his mouth to slap against his belly, just as he's pressing one finger to Steve's hole, a gentle rub along the rim, not quite pressing in yet. "Do I need to go slow, princess?" Billy asks, but there's an undercurrent of something knowing there. A little mocking, just the right side of mean that Billy's perfected over the years. "Or did you fuck yourself last night with that big fake cock I saw in your drawer?"

"Not last night." Steve has to pause when Billy's finger pushes in. It's too gentle, it's teasing, and Billy knows it. "Not l-last night, but the night before, yeah." Billy gets that finger all the way to the knuckle, starts carefully pushing in with another. Steve gives up on trying to keep his voice steady when he adds, "Pretended it was you."

A spark shoots up Steve's spine as Billy crooks his finger, and Steve arches with a gasp and a moan that might be Billy's name. His fingers twist in the sheets as Billy does it again, presses into that spot and rubs, mouths his way up Steve's cock. It's torturous bliss, and Steve's gasping for breath when Billy finally eases up, gets another finger inside Steve while he's coming down from the sudden onslaught of sensation. 

"So... don't go slow?" Billy sounds cocky. 

Steve's into it, it's a problem. Theme of his whole life. "I want to come on your cock, not your fingers," he replies. He loosens his fingers from the sheets and brushes his hair from his face with a shaky hand - it's sweaty, sticking to his forehead.

"Then don't come." 

Billy chooses that precise moment to start moving, three fingers deep into Steve, sending Steve scrambling to find a hold. He doesn't bother trying for the bed, ends up pulling his own hair instead. He swears, helpless to stop his hips pressing back to meet Billy's fingers.

"Be sweet, Stevie." Billy nips at the sensitive space where Steve's thigh meets his hip and twists his fingers when Steve yelps. "You can ask me nice, can't you?"

It's a lot. Steve's mouth opens on a sharp intake of breath when Billy rubs at his prostate again, free hand clamping down over Steve's hip when Steve jerks off the bed. Billy can hold him here, Steve thinks, crazy with it. Billy can hold him down and fingerfuck him like this until Steve's crying, until Steve can't take anymore. He wants that, is hard and aching with it already, even though he's already one orgasm down. He wants Billy to fuck him even more.

"Please." The words come surprisingly easy. He's officially shameless. "Please fuck me, Billy, _please_."

"Christ." Billy twists his fingers again, and then he's pulling them away. Steve's empty, clenching around nothing at all, and it's _terrible_ in a way he's never felt before, like he's got a space that only Billy can fill. "Come on, Stevie, come here." 

Billy climbs onto the bed and props himself up against the headboard, pillows behind him. He reaches and grabs Steve by the arms when Steve's moving too slow to get on his knees, pulls Steve up to him and positions him exactly how he wants him - thighs spread over Billy's, face-to-face with Steve's chest pressed against his. 

"Ready?" Billy asks, hand drifting down Steve's back to tease at his hole again. 

The head of Billy's cock just barely brushes him, catches his hole where Steve's open and wet with lube, and Steve gasps. In lieu of an answer, he reaches back and gets a grip on Billy's cock, revels in the way that Billy's breath goes ragged, and gets himself lined up as Billy's hands close over his hips again. He starts to drop himself down, eyelashes fluttering and mouth falling open at the stretch. Billy's _thick_ , fills him so completely that Steve's not sure he ever wants Billy to leave. 

"Fuck," Steve whispers.

Billy not doing much better. He breathes out a harsh breath. "Go slow, baby, go slow." 

His hands grip Steve's hips as though to keep Steve from dropping down and taking all of Billy at once. Billy makes a soothing hum, noses his way down Steve's jaw. Someone moans - Steve realizes it's _him_ making little punched-out noises as he sinks down, inch by deliciously excruciating inch. Steve can't keep the litany of Billy's name behind his teeth as he goes until finally, he's _full_ , flush against Billy's pelvis. 

"How's it feel, Stevie?" Billy leans up, presses a kiss to the corner of Steve's lips, and then another to Steve's jaw. He sounds tense, as though it's taking everything he has not to fuck up into Steve. It's intoxicating, the way that he's coiled so tight, waiting for Steve's go-ahead. Steve will never get enough of it.

"So good, _oh fuck."_ Steve rolls his hips a little, testing, and god, he's drunk on just how fucking incredible it feels. Billy's hands tighten on him. He swears, and this time when Steve grinds himself down, Billy thrusts up, tentative and careful. 

That won't do at all.

Steve digs his fingers into Billy's hair and pulls. "Fuck me, Billy, come on. You said you'd make me cry, so fuck me."

Billy brings his arms around Steve in a tight hold, presses Steve to his chest. "Like this?" he says, and then he's thrusting up, hard and deep, drawing a shocked, choked moan from Steve. Just once. "I said ask me _nicely_ , princess." 

The hold he's got on Steve means that Steve doesn't have the leverage to move and fuck himself, even as he pulls on Billy's hair until Billy's hissing. _"Please!"_ Steve finally gives in and cries out, too loud. He doesn't give a fuck if his neighbors can hear through the thin apartment walls. 

The pace that Billy sets starts slow and deep, the position letting Steve feel every fucking inch of Billy's cock. It builds, until Steve gives up trying and failing to meet Billy's rhythm, going pliant and letting Billy's grip on him and Billy's hips do the work. He can do nothing but gasp out, tugging at Billy's hair and clutching at his shoulders. 

"Just like that, baby, take what I give you." Billy gets a hand in Steve's hair, curls his fingers and grips to drag Steve's head to where he can press his lips to Steve's ears. His voice is deep, and though Steve's often thought that Billy Hargrove is a good contender for sin incarnate, it's never been so true. "God, Steve, you feel so fucking good on my cock. Thought about this forever, knew you'd be so fucking sweet for me. I want you to come, Stevie, I wanna see you come on my cock. Wanna fuck you through it, wanna lay you down and fuck you while you're so loose and easy for me."

Steve's going to die. Billy's going to kill him, he's going to die on Billy Hargrove's dick and love every second. He can't breathe, doesn't fucking need to, not with the way that Billy's fucking him so good _._ He's making sounds that he can't bring himself to care about, moans and gasps and keens, fingers flexing where he's holding onto Billy for dear life. "Billy," he manages, stuttering over Billy's name. "B-Billy, I need you to touch me, please... Oh god, _please_." 

" _Fuck_ ," Billy grits out, lets go of Steve's hair to reach down and get his hand around Steve's dick. "Fuck. Yeah, Stevie, c'mon."

Steve doesn't know what's possesses him when he begs, "Please, please can I come, please?" 

Billy's hand goes almost too tight on his cock, grip in his hair yanking Steve's head back to expose the line of his throat before Billy lets go when Steve yelps with it. His voice is rough, even as he strokes through Steve's hair almost apologetically before dropping his arm encircle Steve again. Steve can't care about the pain of his scalp, not this close, needs Billy to _let_ him come. He could cry when he hears Billy say, "Yeah, Steve, come for me, come all over me." 

Billy's hand twists just right. The heat that's been building in Steve's belly bursts into a supernova. He spills over Billy's hand with a cry, arching against Billy's hold. His head falls back, coming across Billy's chest as well as Steve's. Billy doesn't let go, though, doesn't slow or stop his thrusting. If anything, he goes faster, harder, hand still cupped around Steve's cock.

And oh. _Oh_ , Billy had promised to make Steve cry, and here he is. On the verge of tears because the overstimulation is both the best and the worst thing that Steve's ever felt. He doesn't think he can take it, but he wants to, so badly. Wants Billy to keep going, wants Billy to never stop. 

Billy pushes Steve back onto the bed, and Steve goes down without a fight. He only makes a sound, bereft and desperate, when Billy pulls out. "Shh, you're alright," Billy says, and sounds fucking _jagged_ , like he's swallowed glass and gargled concrete. "Fuck, you're so good, baby, so good."

He gets Steve's legs up, knees over his shoulders, practically bending Steve in half. Steve lets out a strangled sound when Billy pushes back in, beyond words as Billy starts fucking him in earnest like that. Deep, rough thrusts that almost hurt, that send Steve spiraling higher and higher until he's on a different plane altogether, caught up in the way that Billy looks gorgeous even covered in sweat and hair tangled. His eyes are open and focused on Steve, like there's nothing else in the world he'd rather see.

"Yeah, baby, you're all I want," Billy says, punched-out whisper between thrusts, and Steve wonders if he said that last part aloud. "Fuck, Stevie, you're so good, so fucking good, _oh_."

Billy loses his rhythm, jack-rabbit thrusts, and then he slows, grinds deep as his mouth opens on a rough moan, fingers digging deep enough into Steve's skin that there will be bruises. At least, Steve hopes there will be bruises. He lifts a hand, tangles it in Billy's hair and _pulls_ , watches as Billy hisses air out through his teeth and gives an aborted thrust, like Billy can't help but move to chase even more sensation. If Steve could come a third time, he thinks he would at the sight of Billy right now - wild-eyed with his hair falling around him, mouth just slightly open as he gasps in air.

He lets go of Steve's legs, lets them fall gently to the side as his softening cock slips from Steve's hole. Steve whimpers at the loss and at the obscene, wet sounds of come and lube. His thoughts run, pinging from one thing to the next, finally landing on the idea of Billy fucking him again like this. Overstimulated, messy, and pliant.

Steve doesn't realize he's making needy sounds again until Billy shushes him and leans down, drops his weight onto his elbows instead of his hands to kiss Steve slow and deep. It's softer than any of their other kisses so far. He nips at Steve's lip almost playfully, a counterpoint to the way he shifts to allow one hand to drift down to play with the messy rim of Steve's hole. Steve clutches at his shoulders and gasps, rocks down and pulls away from the two gentle fingers that Billy presses into him, unsure if he can handle the stimulation of it but nonetheless desperate for it. It's _almost_ too much, rides the razor wire line of perfect and awful, and Steve can't help the quiet keens and whimpers or the way that his eyes tear up from the sensations overwhelming him. 

"You're alright," Billy murmurs, noses at Steve's neck to nibble and bite there. "So fuckin' _messy_ , baby, look at you."

Steve can't breathe, spirals higher and higher. He feels like he's having a fucking out-of-body experience. "Your... your fault." 

"Oh, it was my pleasure, I'll take that blame. Stevie, baby." The thrusts stop, and it's just Billy _filling_ Steve for a moment. It's not enough in one breath, too much in the next. "Stevie, look at me." Steve opens his eyes, didn't even realize he had squeezed them shut. A tear's fallen, he can feel the track of it down the side of his face, disappearing into his hairline. Billy kisses the corner of Steve's eye. "Steve. We can stop here, baby. Do you want me to stop?" 

"No." It's an easy answer, even if it's on a shuddering exhale. Steve never, ever wants him to stop.

He must say as much, even if he doesn't necessarily mean to, because Billy's eyes smile when he does, crinkles at the corners that Steve adores. "Are you _sure_?" Billy asks, and he still sounds serious. "I only want to do what you want me to do."

Steve exhales, then sucks in a shaky breath and shifts down onto Billy's fingers. It's so good that it hurts, and he does it again, revels in the sensitivity and the moan that Billy lets out. "Don't stop," Steve whispers, and the rest comes easy enough. "Don't... please don't stop, Billy, please, I want... I want everything you wanna give me." He's afraid, suddenly, that this will be the first and the last time, that this is all he's ever going to get, that Billy will want to fuck him but not keep him. "Said you'd make me cry."

Billy kisses another tear away, then Steve's cheek. "You _are_ crying, baby." He hushes Steve as he withdraws his fingers slowly. Steve hears him wipe them on the bedspread, but can't bring himself to care about it beyond the fact that Billy's no longer _in_ him. "Shh, you're okay. You wanna give me one more, Stevie? Can you come one more time for me?"

"I don't -" Steve can't think. The full force of Billy's attention on him is potent and devastating all at once, like if he's not careful he'll get lost in it. He wants to get lost in it, he thinks desperately, hysterically. Wants to drown in Billy's attention, would stay here in this bed until the end of time.

Billy's waiting for an answer, kissing Steve's cheeks and petting his sweaty hair, smoothing his hand down Steve's side in soothing, gentle sweeps of his hand. It's staggering in its own way to see the softness that Steve has always _known_ was there, hidden behind the rough, jagged edges that Billy wears like a shield against the world. He's seen it in little ways, the way that Billy's expression can go tender, just for a moment, has _felt_ his hands go soft when he's guiding Steve at the gym or getting him home after a night of friendly drinking. It's never been so much, though, never been so steady like this, and Steve feels fiercely grateful to be at the center of it. 

Steve takes a shuddering breath. "I don't know if I can," he says, swallows. "But I wanna try, I wanna..." The words that almost come out trip him up, and he hesitates, even though he wants to say them. Billy's patient here like he isn't anywhere else, though, and finally Steve can get them out, whispers it like it's a confession. "I wanna be good for you."

"Oh, baby." Another kiss to Steve's cheek, and Billy's words are murmured into his skin. "You're so good for me already, you're always good for me." 

"I wanna try," Steve says again, and lifts a hand lazily to tug at Billy's hair. It's not nearly as hard as before, but it still gets Steve a retaliatory hiss and the delicious scratch of Billy's nails down his side.

Then Billy's hand goes lower, blunt nails down his abdomen, pinching lightly at the delicate skin of his inner thighs until Steve is gasping and twitching with it. "Stubborn," Billy says. He presses a kiss next to Steve's eye again, where another tear is already starting to track down Steve's cheek. His tongue darts out, quick and dirty, and Steve whines with that feeling too. "If you want to stop at anytime, you tell me. Got it?" 

At Steve's nod, Billy drags him into another kiss. Steve's lips part on a moan when he feels two of Billy's fingers at his hole again, pressing and prodding, and Billy takes advantage to lick at the inside of Steve's teeth. It's dirty and perfect, and Steve feels wanton, hands fluttering between tangling in Billy's hair and clutching at Billy's shoulders. Billy bites at Steve's lower lip as he pulls back, tugs it between his teeth just as he curls his fingers _just right_ , and Steve sobs with it, body jerking as his head swims with the sheer overwhelming sparks of bliss.

"You want me to get you off like this?" Billy says, nips his way along Steve's jaw. "Want me to finger you just like _this_ , nice and slow and gentle?" 

It's slow, yeah, but gentle's not a word that Steve would apply to this situation, considering that Billy's shifted to pin Steve to the bed with his own body, laying across him as his fingers keep glancing over his prostate. Steve's writhing, moans and whines pouring out of him unchecked. Steve doesn't even have it in him to be ashamed of it.

"I can," Billy keeps going. "We can do it that way if you want.”

He stops moving. It's _cruel_ , Steve thinks, tries to press down onto Billy's fingers as his eyes go wet and misty. He needs Billy to _move_ , because Billy isn't letting him fuck himself on his fingers, holds him down until he's sobbing out a plea or ten. He's not above begging, not really, definitely not now.

"Shh, baby. You're alright." 

Steve's nails are scoring little crescents in the skin of Billy’s shoulder. He knows it has to hurt, but he feels like he’s going to just drift away if he doesn’t hold onto something. “Please,” Steve sobs, looks up at Billy above him and gives up trying to get him to move, going limp. When Billy moves his fingers again, fucks them in slow and adds a third, Steve nearly cries with that too. It's so damn _good_ , is the thing, and it's been so damn good, too good for him to handle it. He never wants it to end in the same way that he's not sure he can take much more. 

"God, baby, you're so fuckin' pretty like this," Billy says, leans in and kisses him sweet like he can't help himself. "You're always gorgeous, but desperate is a good goddamn look on you. You want me to fuck you again, Stevie?"

Oh, fuck, yes. Steve wants that, says as much and then breathes out another little " _please_ , Billy" as his hips stutter down onto Billy's fingers and away again the next second like he can't take it. It's a constant push-pull of sensation, the line between too-much and not-enough getting blurrier by the second.

"Fuck, you make me crazy," Billy blows out in a soft rush. He draws his fingers out slow again - Steve hates the feeling of being empty with a desperation he's never felt before, needs Billy to fuck him. He must say so, because Billy's making those soothing sounds again, his name and telling him he's so good, so perfect, everything Billy wants. "Roll over, babe."

Steve manages, somehow, ends up on his stomach with Billy's help in the form of rough hands on his hips. He tries to go up on his hands as Billy gets him up on his knees, but he's shaky at best, knows they won't hold him for very long at all, so he finally just folds his arms and drops his face into them. The feeling of Billy's hands, skating over the backs of his thighs, mapping up and down his spine, palming his ass, it feels good but it's not enough. Steve's still begging, but this time it's muffled in his own arms.

The bed shifts. Billy's fingers dig into the hollows of Steve's hips as he presses into Steve again, hard and hot. He goes slow, Steve's overtaxed nerves sparking and firing off, mixed signals and wires crossing until it's one big maelstrom of too-much-too-good. Steve feels open, though, feels _loose_ , and it's not painful - just full. Overwhelming. He might die, he thinks, but he's not sure if it will be because Billy's going too slow, or because Billy could be absolutely still and it would be too much.

"Jesus _fuck_ ," Billy swears, leans over Steve to press his forehead to the sweaty skin of his back. "You got no idea what you do to me."

In this moment, he sounds just as strung out as Steve feels, just as blown away and lost to it all. He might be, Steve thinks. Hopes, really. After all, he's already come once - the evidence is slicking the way now, and the thought makes Steve bite at his own arm in a habitual effort to silence the stream of moans and other sounds he can't help. Billy's left hand leaves Steve's hip to stroke up his back as he moves, slow and careful. His fingers curl in Steve's hair, firm grip drawing Steve's face up and out of his arms with a jolt of pleasure or pain that shoots through Steve - he's honestly not sure which one, and he whines with it, shifts up onto his elbows to accommodate the pull. He trembles as Billy sets a slow, careful pace.

"Told you not to hide from me," Billy says. He sounds soft now, indulgent, like he's doing this all for Steve with no thought to his own pleasure. Makes Steve feel _decadent_ , even though he'd absolutely be hiding his face if Billy would let him, loves that Billy isn't. "Christ, Steve, you're so fucking good, so perfect for me. Gonna fuck you just like this, nice and easy. I know it's a lot, baby, you're doing so good."

It _is_ a lot, Steve thinks, Billy's words and Billy's cock are _a lot_ , and he can't articulate it. Just Billy is a lot, always has been, and Steve will soak up whatever he can. The praise is sinking warm into the pit of his stomach, makes everything a little hazy around the edges as the contrast of _this_ against the hard-and-fast version earlier just drags him down. He always thought that Billy in bed would be staggering, leave a trail of devastation a mile wide behind when he went, but Steve didn't expect just how _much_ it would be. Billy's ruining him for anyone else, which is something that Steve's heard about people before but never thought could actually mean anything. He thought it _had_ to be people exaggerating, because who could possibly be _that_ good?

Turns out Billy Hargrove is that good.

He must have said at least part of that out loud. Steve's not sure, honestly, can't tell which way is up, or where he ends and Billy begins. But he must have, because Billy says, "God, you think _I'm_ ruining _you_ for anyone else?" and lets go of Steve's hair to drag his fingertips down Steve's spine, slow and reverent. "You're the one who's taking every fucking thing I give you and begging me for _more_."

Steve's cock is hard when Billy gets a gentle hand around it. He doesn't stroke, just kind of lets his slow, deep thrusts push his hips forward and back through the circle of his fingers. Even that little bit of friction is almost painful, and Billy has to know it, _must_ know what he's doing to Steve.

"Don't stop," he hears himself gasp. He thinks he might still be crying, isn't sure he cares. His eyes are closed anyway. "Please don't... don't stop, don't _ever stop_."

Billy groans, hips driving forward in a sudden harsh thrust. It crashes in on Steve all at once, sensation and emotion and pleasure and pain, hits him like the sudden stop of crashing into a brick wall. It's the most intense orgasm of his _life_ , a dissonance so loud that it becomes silent as he shakes through it, clinging to the thread of Billy's voice even if he has no idea what Billy's saying.

"-never, pretty boy," is what he hears when he can finally make sense of words again. "Never gonna stop, can't let you go now, baby, couldn't even if I wanted to."

Steve's pliant, can only let out a string of nonsense and Billy's name when Billy gets his arms around his chest and hauls him backwards. It takes a minute and some coordination that Steve doesn't really have, but he gets one arm slung behind Billy to tangle in his sweaty hair and drops his head back onto Billy's shoulder with a quiet little sigh. He curls his other hand around the Billy's forearm where it's wrapped around his waist, holding him close so that he's spread across Billy's lap with his back to Billy's chest.

It should be uncomfortable, should be well-beyond too much, but Billy's fucking up into him slow and steady, kissing at his neck and murmuring praise and promises like Steve's some kind of holy thing. Steve's somewhere above sensation, now, out of his body and yet so aware of it at the same time.

"Wanted you for so long, Stevie, you have no idea," Billy's saying, and now he sounds like he's half out of his mind with the pleasure of it, too. Steve can sympathize. "Knew you'd be so good for me, let me take such good care of you, _fuck_."

Steve swallows, feels his dry throat click. "Yeah," he says, rasps like he hasn't had a drink in days. "You fucked me so good, Hargrove, come on, take what you need from me."

His words are slurred together, but Billy still moans, bites down on his neck and shoulder again and again as his hips snap up into Steve. Steve thinks this moment could go on forever and he'd be perfectly happy, suspended on the edge of nothing at all just like this, with the perfect feeling of Billy's cock inside him and Billy's arms around him and Billy's voice in his ear. He needs Billy to come again, though, needs to at least try to give as good as he's gotten here, even if he's kitten-weak and half-gone, drunk on the experience.

"So good," Steve whispers, because he can't muster up anything else. His mouth is a stream of consciousness at this point. "So fucking good, Billy, baby, need you to come..."

The arm that's been a steel band across his chest snaps up, fingers catching Steve's chin and pulling him into a biting, passionate kiss as Billy thrusts up and drags Steve down at the same time, so deep that Steve swears he can feel Billy in his _throat_. He kisses Billy through it, until Billy slowly goes lax, muscles releasing tension even as he keeps them upright.

Steve is done for, can't move to save his life. Billy, at least, has enough of his wits about him that he gets him laid down on the bed, slipping out of Steve carefully as he does and pressing a kiss to his forehead before grabbing his shirt off the floor. Even with the vague awareness that he should be doing _something_ , Steve can't quite will any of his limbs to move, so he just ends up laying in the mess of his own bed while Billy uses his work-out shirt to get them both minimally clean. They'll still need to shower, Steve thinks, but they can at least curl together without it being uncomfortable for the moment.

When they're clean _enough_ , Billy wrestles one of the blankets up and over them. All the bedding will need changed and washed, Steve thinks, and the words kind of echo around his brain where nothing quite makes sense. Billy gets him close, presses Steve to his chest so that Steve's head is resting on his bicep, and Steve just kind of floats for a while, basks in the pleasant feeling of Billy against him and Billy's hand making soothing circles on his back.

Eventually, though, Steve kind of... melts back into his body. He shifts, yawns, feels the telltale aches of good sex.

"There you are," Billy says. Steve can't see his expression, considering his face is still mashed into Billy's chest, but he sounds lazily content. Pleased. A little awed. "Holy shit, Steve."

"Holy shit, _me_?" Steve mutters to Billy's chest. "Holy shit, _you_. You broke me. I'm dead, you killed me with amazing sex."

Billy sounds insufferably smug when he says, "Oh, it was 'amazing,' huh?"

"You're fishing." He pulls back from Billy's chest and shifts so that they're face to face, legs tangled together and Billy's arm loose around his waist. "This isn't how I planned my day to go, but I'm not complaining."

He gets a snort for that. "Did you seriously just go from 'amazing' to 'no complaints?" Billy's teasing, though - Steve can tell by the way he looks just _fond,_ bright blue eyes crinkling at the corners and mouth quirking up. It's an expression he's seen on Billy's face before, directed at him, but never been able to put a name to. Fond.

Billy's laying on Steve's pillow like he belongs there, just fucked Steve like he's done it every day for years. God, Steve wants him to stay. He swallows, reaches a hand out and and brushes a strand of Billy's hair back from where it's sticking to his cheek. "It was incredible," he says softly, and watches as Billy's cheeks go pink. Of all the things that they said in the past... god, hours? Steve doesn't know. But of all the things they said, it's fascinating that Steve's honest appreciation is what makes Billy blush.

"You're the one who came three fucking times." Billy's so soft right now, and Steve wants to keep him forever, just like this. In bed, impossibly soft, with that blush across his cheeks. His brow furrows, though, and he smooths his hand down Steve's side. "Stevie, you're shaking. Are you okay?"

Oh. He is. He hadn't even noticed. "Yeah," he says, means it. "I'm great, I don't know why..." Steve trails off as Billy's thumb moves up to gently swipe at his cheek. He's not still crying, though, it's just what's left behind.

"Endorphins," Billy says. "It was a lot. You need to eat something. Drink some water. We both need a shower." He grins a little as he says the last part, proud. Smug. Steve supposes he's got a right to be. As Billy already said, he did come _three_ fucking times.

There's something on his mind though. He feels like he needs to come clean, like he's lied somehow. "I didn't, um." He clears his throat. "I meant to send that picture to Robin?" Billy tenses, and Steve pushes through quickly, anxiety building inside him. "It was for a bet, and your name was right above hers in my contact list, 'cause B for Buckley comes after B for Billy."

"I know the alphabet, Steve." Oh shit, Billy sounds defensive now, a little angry. He hasn't let go of Steve, though, still wrapped around him, even if he's frozen and not moving.

Steve's fucked this up. It's just started, and he's fucked it up. "I'm glad I did," he says, and oh, he might actually start crying again now. He feels off-kilter on the heels of intense sex and emotions, and now this. His voice is shaking, and it all comes out in a breath, strung together with barely any spaces. If he doesn't get it out quick enough, Billy might leave, might get out of this bed and never talk to Steve again. "I didn't mean to, but I'm glad I did, I-I've been wanting you forever, I just didn't know that..." He stops, cuts himself off before he can say 'I didn't know that you felt the same.' He still doesn't know if Billy feels the same, not really. What people say in the heat of the moment can't count, after all, even if Steve meant every word.

He doesn't realize he's biting his lip until Billy's hand leaves his lower back to gently thumb it out from between his teeth. He brushes over Steve's lower lip again like he's soothing the bite away. It makes him think of the mark on his neck. There are probably more than one, now, and Steve's a little anxious to get to a mirror and see the reminders of where Billy's teeth and hands have been. Especially if Billy leaves and never wants anything to do with Steve ever again.

But Billy says, "Fuck, I'm glad you did too, baby," with so much raw honesty behind it that Steve can't breathe for a second. He's shaking, still, he thinks, because Billy pulls him in to rest his head back on his arm, back to where Steve is essentially hiding in Billy's chest. "I meant it," Billy goes on. "I'm not letting you go now. No returns or refunds."

Steve huffs out a laugh. "You broke me, you bought me."

"My warranty's definitely out."

There's a lull, then, and Steve drifts, lets his body calm down now that he knows Billy's not about to jump out of bed and let him pine forever or something. He could nap - orgasms always wipe him out a little, so three in a row have exhausted him. He also needs to shower, though, can feel sweat and come drying on him, and the sheets need washed. It's difficult to open his eyes again, though, let alone move.

"Steve." Billy nudges him. "Stevie, come on. Let's get you some water and take a shower. I'll wash your back."

"I know what that means. I've already come three times, I literally _can't_ do it again," Steve mutters, not moving in response to Billy's nudging. He wants to stay here forever, even as gross as he's starting to feel, tangled up with Billy. "If you say the words 'Netflix and chill,' I'll bite you."

"I was going to say we could watch Parks and Rec, but..." Billy sounds amused, but he nudges Steve a little harder, like he's trying to shake Steve awake again even though Steve's not actually asleep yet. Steve shifts away with a grumble that turns into an inhale of surprise and pain as his muscles twinge. "You want me to carry you?"

Which. Yes, Steve does want that, thanks for asking. "Now you're just showing off," is what he says, though, which isn't a yes or a no.

"Oh, now I want to watch you try and walk to the bathroom. See if your legs will hold you, go on." Billy's saying one thing, but he's rolling over Steve in the same breath, sliding out of bed and hoisting Steve up again into his arms. "I got you, princess," Billy says when Steve kind of just. Flops his arms around Billy's neck and drops his head onto Billy's shoulder. It's not exactly _comfortable_ , because Steve is roughly the same height as Billy even if he's not built like Billy is. Steve's _lithe_ , okay. He can hold his own, he's just not the brick shithouse that Billy works so hard to be.

It's not exactly _uncomfortable_ , either, though. Steve kind of loves it, even as he gets the implication of Billy princess-carrying him while using that nickname. "Fuck you," he says all the same, no heat at all behind it.

"I don't think you're up for it." It's a quick reply, like Billy was ready and waiting for that specific response. Just as Steve's working his tired brain to come up with something appropriately sexual to banter back, Billy adds, "Maybe tomorrow, if we have time. Dick as big as yours is gonna take some working up to, Stevie." Oh fuck. Oh _fuck_ , what has Steve gotten himself into? Is it physically possible for Steve to come four times in a single day?

When Billy carefully sets him down on the same fucking bathroom counter that Steve was on not too long ago, when Steve watches Billy move to start the water and feels a telltale stir of heat in the pit of his stomach... 

Well. He gets the feeling he's about to find out.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll show myself out, thanks.
> 
> Come hang out with me on Tumblr at [ElysiumWaits](https://elysiumwaits.tumblr.com/).


End file.
